Instead his masked face stared straight at her.
“She dies,” he told his men.
“Wait,” shouted Admiral Raig. “Lieutenant Celwen is joined to the ship. Her death could endanger us all.”
“And needlessly at that,” said Celwen, relieved by Raig’s intervention. “I have done nothing against you.”
Lykaon approached the dais. The deck seemed to shudder beneath his footfalls.
“You lie,” he said. “You burned with rage when I broke your captain.”
An overlooked possibility dawned on Celwen. Her blood froze. “You are a telepath?”
Deep grating laughter emanated from beneath Lykaon’s helm. “I hear your heart’s beating and smell its desires. You care for the captain.”
Celwen swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “He is like a father to me.”
“What of your real father?”
Guilt and sorrow besieged Celwen. She fought to muster her courage even as it bled away, but the wounds of her own making cut too deep.
The gloating in Lykaon’s voice almost made her wish for the death he’d threatened. “You betrayed him. To his death…or worse?”
Celwen willed herself to offer a defense, but her lips moved soundlessly.
“Very well,” Lykaon said, “Your shame is enough.”
Raig shot Celwen a stern questioning look. She averted her eyes.
Lykaon turned back to Liquid Sign. “These escapades try my patience, Anomian. I’d not be made to suffer them had Shaiel’s Right Hand kept faith. Answer quickly. Will you serve my lord against his foes?”
Liquid Sign twitched in myriad unnatural places and ways. The colored scales of his enveloping membranes rippled as if in a stiff breeze.
“Soon after we attained liberation, They Who Exist Beyond scoured us from the spheres and drove us into the outer darkness,” Liquid Sign explained. “Many iterations later we sought to return and incorporate new properties, but Those That Do Not Exist forced us back as they fled the Guild.”
Lykaon barked a cruel laugh. “Conquest lures us both. I defied the master of the known world, expanded his empire beyond the conquests of Great Zolgadr, and thenceforth ruled one third of hell. Now I serve a just god and command your ancient foes. Join us and none will stand against you. Refuse and we shall finish the work the old gods began on you.”
“You do not know the plague that will be loosed upon the spheres,” Celwen warned.
“Not just the spheres,” Lykaon corrected her. He turned back to the Anomian. “Answer me. Will you serve Shaiel?”
Liquid Sign’s many eyes rolled. His myriad mouthparts drooled.
“We will serve.”
9
Astlin studied the squares etched into the piece of sheet metal on the table and moved one of the steel washers that, along with an equal number of hex nuts, served as game pieces.
Rosemy, the youngest Nesshin girl, sat on the tabletop across the board from her and giggled as her nut took Astlin’s washer.
“You’re pretty good.” Astlin praised her with a smile. “Who taught you?”
Rosemy beamed. “My daddy. He made the game for me.”
Seated in the stuffy confines of the habitat pod, Astlin pictured a life spent entirely aboard the Theophilus; a father struggling to give his daughter something remotely like a childhood. Her smile faded.
“Your daddy must love you a lot.”
Rosemy looked down at the board and stirred the pieces with the rasp of steel on steel. “He died.”
Memories of two lifetimes flooded Astlin’s mind like a radio dial stuck between stations. Whatever that meant. Fragments of the world beyond seldom made more sense than the remnants of dreams.
Astlin slid another washer into the girl’s reach. “I lost my dad, too.”
Rosemy took the piece and turned it over in her small hands. “How did he die?”
“I don’t know.” Her father’s unknown fate was an aching wound that even Astlin’s rebirth hadn’t healed.
“My dad got burned when the engine caught fire. Mom said he saved us.” Rosemy took Astlin’s hand and slid the washer onto her little finger like a ring.
Astlin’s grief and affection compromised in a half-smile. She tried to remove the makeshift ring, but Rosemy grabbed both of her hands.
“No,” the girl insisted. You keep it.”
“But your game will be missing a piece.”
Rosemy’s dark braids whipped from side to side as she shook her head. “No one else plays with me now. Zay says he’s outgrown it.”
She glanced at the nearby bunks where her exhausted shipmates—including a bristly haired boy probably a year older than her—napped.
“Teg says we’re going someplace with other kids and real games,” said Rosemy. “But if you keep your piece, you’ll come back for a rematch.”
Astlin leaned forward and kissed Rosemy’s forehead. Holding up her finger with its steel ring she said, “I promise I will.”
Xander’s voice booming over the intercom shattered the temporary peace.
“We are in sight of the Serapis,” he said, and Astlin divined the great ship’s peril from the urgency in his words. “They’re under attack!”
Standing beside Xander’s seat on the Wheel, Astlin stared through the cockpit window in dread and growing anger. A rattle from deep in the ship’s ductwork further strained her nerves.
The huge oval wedge of the Serapis with its backswept aft pylons clearly stood out against the stars. Four smaller oblong shapes trailed it like roving shadows while a number of obsidian-edged craft—she counted three—flitted in and out of the dark.
The creaking of old boots on the deck betrayed Teg’s approach, but just barely. Astlin turned to see him dressed in the same grimy shirt and frayed pants as before, but now his gun was in his hand.
“Four corvettes.” Teg fed six bullets from his pocket into the revolver, closed the cylinder, and slid the freshly loaded gun into a shoulder holster worn under his patched olive coat. “It’s nice to see a familiar sight. I don’t recognize the three gnats, though.”
Astlin faced the window and crossed her arms protectively. “They’re nexus-runners—Night Gen ships.”
“That didn’t help,” said Teg. “But come to think of it, they look like tiny backwards versions of the Exodus.”
“You can reminisce later,” Xander said. “Right now your shipmates—my people—need safe haven, and seven ships stand against us.”
Teg sidled up to Xander’s seat and leaned on the armrest across from Astlin.
“It might look that way,” said Teg. “But those ships aren’t here for us. They want something aboard the Serapis. They have a boarding party tossing her, and they don’t expect outside intervention.”
Astlin cocked an eyebrow. “You can tell all that from here?”
Teg pointed at the trailing ships. “Those corvettes are covering the stern.” His finger tracked the weaving nexus-runners. “While the Gen run interference. They’re not shooting, so they have people on the Serapis. The hangar’s their extraction point. That’s where we need to be.”
“I will bring us in for a landing,” Xander said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“Nice initiative,” said Teg. “Bad idea. Judging by how those corvettes are keeping their distance, I’d say the Serapis has her suppression field on. It doesn’t seem to affect nexus-runners, which we should all keep in mind, but hitting that field will turn us into a flying brick.”
Astlin cast anxious looks between Teg and Xander. “What can we do?”
“Whatever it is,” said Teg, “we should do it fast. Once they have what they need, those nexus-runners can take the Serapis apart.”
“A skeleton crew of engineers and refugees cannot hold off trained soldiers for long,” Xander said. “We must destroy the nexus-runners.”
Teg shook his head. “Those corvettes need to go first. Then the Serapis can lower the field and let us land. Plus the boarding part
y loses its ride and keeps the Gen from getting trigger happy.”
“You are skilled in war, my friend,” Xander said. “We’ll take the corvettes first.”
“Chalk it up to experience,” said Teg. “But even Almeth Elocine would have his work cut out going four against one.”
Though no longer one with the Fire, Astlin’s former bond with the all-consuming force gave her sudden inspiration.
“Bring us in close,” she told Xander. “I’ll even the odds.”
“Can you make it onto their ships?” asked Teg.
“If this works,” said Astlin, “I won’t have to.”
It was a big if. Astlin had once wielded nexism to rule cities and tame souldancers, but she’d been cut off from the Nexus. Then again, she was basically her own nexus now.
The corvettes flew in a staggered line. The nearest ship’s blocky hull grew larger in the cockpit window as Xander steered the Theophilus closer.
An alarm chirped from somewhere on the instrument panel.
“I think they see us,” said Teg.
White-orange tracers streaked into the night as a chain cannon on the corvette opened fire. Xander pivoted the Theophilus to the left. The drive pod stayed fixed in space while the connecting spar—and the rest of the ship—rotated around it. The habitat and Wheel pods ended up opposite their starting points, and the bullets cut through empty space.
“They didn’t expect that,” said Astlin. “Why aren’t we upside-down?”
“The pods are gyroscopically oriented,” said Teg. “You can spin the ship around any of them.”
“Yes,” Xander said with a grin. “This is a ship of many secrets.”
Astlin kept her focus on the corvettes as the Theophilus canted and spun clear of incoming fire. When the nearest ship’s tapered rectangular hull filled the window, she closed her eyes and reached out with her thoughts.
Many people, some in grey cloaks; most in dark blue uniforms, milled about each corvette’s bridge. Most wanted to win glory for sphere and family. All feared and served Shaiel.
Exerting her will over the command crews of four ships taxed even Astlin’s strength. She knew she had little time to act before their shipmates stopped them. In her haste, the fourth corvette slipped from her overextended grasp.
Your allies are about to turn on you, she made the three remaining crews’ own thoughts tell them. She hastily added, Escape the Nexus. Find the world beyond.
Near exhaustion, Astlin broke telepathic contact. She gripped Xander’s arm and said, “Get us out of here.”
“Why?” asked Teg. “What’s—”
The three nearest corvettes fired, though not at the Theophilus. Bullets chewed all four ships’ armor, while torpedoes punched through their hulls.
Xander was already banking away from the enemy line when the leftmost corvette veered across the others’ path. Astlin didn’t see how many ships collided, but the resulting blast rattled every loose bolt on the Theophilus and forced her to lean on Xander’s backrest for support.
Teg grabbed Astlin’s shoulders and spun her toward him.
“You can blow up ships with your mind!?”
It took Astlin a moment to gather her wits under a flood of fatigue and guilt. “No. I made their crews blow each other up.”
She hoped they’d followed her last advice.
“Not all of them,” Xander said. “The farthest corvette escaped destruction.”
“No big deal. The gyroscopes aren’t all that’s left from the turrets.” Teg slapped Astlin on the back. “One-on-one. I like those odds.”
Warmth flooded Astlin’s face, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing. Before she could speak, a heavy impact rocked the Wheel pod.
Xander’s voice was grim. “The nexus-runners are firing on us.”
Astlin barely saw the three jet black, trefoil shapes speeding toward them before Xander wheeled the Theophilus about and ran. Green-white rays flashed past the window.
“Do the mind explosion thing again!” yelled Teg.
Astlin struggled to stay on her feet as the deck lurched. She cast about for the Gen pilots’ minds, but her soul dashed itself against barriers like solid iron walls.
“They’re shielded from nexism,” she shouted back. “I can’t break through.”
Teg sprinted for the drive pod tube. “Okay. We fight them old school. Xander, warm up the Wheel pod gun. I’ll jump on the drive pod turret. Astlin, can you take the gun on the habitat pod?”
“I think I can do better.” Astlin disengaged from the Night Gen ships and cast her will across the battlefield to the last corvette. She didn’t have the strength to take on the whole bridge crew, so she focused on the steersman.
With a final push Astlin entered the corvette pilot’s mind. He was Paredh, a newly ordained Bhakta in Shaiel’s priesthood. His brothers’ betrayal had left him confused and afraid. The damage they’d done to his ship burned like raw wounds.
But he had his orders—watch the heathen ship’s hangar and keep the stolen nexus-runner from escaping until Shaiel’s property was secure.
Astlin wondered what property Paredh meant. Was it the Kerioth itself? Unable to find the answer in the young steersman’s mind, she looked through his Wheel-magnified senses.
And saw someone dear to her sprawled upon the hangar floor.
“Cook!” she cried aloud.
“We’ll eat after the dogfight,” said Teg.
Astlin barely heard him. She pictured the Serapis’ hangar in her mind’s eye and was there.
10
The scene that greeted Astlin was like looking at time with double vision. Shipping containers still lay scattered on the blackened deck from her fight with Fallon a lifetime ago.
But here, it’s only been a few days.
A burst of light from behind her broke Astlin’s contemplation. She turned toward the mangled hangar door and saw what looked like a fireworks display on a starry night.
Looking closer, she saw the Theophilus leading the Night Gen ships on a wild chase. Emerald light streaked from the nexus-runners’ black spear tip bows, but at Xander’s command the small ether-runner pitched and rolled clear of their fire.
Astlin’s spirits rose as blazing red bolts lanced out from the Theophilus. The drive and habitat pods swiveled at the ends of their spars, returning fire on the pursuing Night Gen. The chase spiraled past the lone remaining corvette, stubborn as a hunting hound, that still blocked the approach to the hangar.
Astlin considered invading the last steersman’s mind, but she didn’t know if her weakened will could bridge the distance.
It’s alright. Xander and Teg will find a way.
And right now, Cook needed her more.
Astlin followed the fleeting image of Cook lying splayed on the deck. Her distant secondhand vision left her unsure if he was hurt.
Or dead.
She pushed the last thought away. Cook had lasted longer than her in their first fight with Hazeroth, and he wasn’t even made of brass like she’d been. No way a bunch of Night Gen had done what Shaiel’s Blade couldn’t.
She would find Cook, get him patched up, and—when the Serapis was out of danger—have a long overdue celebration with all of her friends.
It’s only fair, she reminded herself. They missed the wedding.
Astlin entered the Kerioth’s shadow. Red and green flashes from the battle outside pushed back the darkness in short bursts. The fitful light revealed a body lying on the deck.
Many thought Cook’s lumpish form ugly. To Astlin, who saw his true beauty, every hurt done to him was a dagger in her heart.
Astlin knelt down beside Cook. There was no blood, but dark bruises ringed his neck. His breath was a shallow whisper. A familiar white sword lay at his feet.
“Cook?” she said softly. “It’s Astlin.”
His thick lips moved, but his eyes stayed closed as he whispered, “You came back.”
She fought the urge to take him in her arms. “I’m right he
re.”
Cook’s voice fell to a low hiss. “Glad we could talk one last time.”
A wave of panic nearly swept Astlin away. She reflexively looked into the ether and saw Cook’s silver cord dimming to a hair-thin line.
He needed a medic. Though she could reach the infirmary with a thought, Astlin wasn’t sure if she could bring Cook along. He would die without help, but trying to move him might be no less fatal. Her fatigued will couldn’t decide.
Casting about in desperation, Astlin saw the stud on Cook’s ear. She gingerly pressed the blue stone between her thumb and forefinger, being careful not to jostle him.
“Medical emergency in the hangar,” she sent on all channels. “Cook’s hurt—bad. Please hurry!”
Cook’s soul blazed like the last gleam of a fading light. “No! Send them back. It’s not safe!”
“The Night Gen,” said Astlin. “They’re still here.”
“They’re dead.” Cook’s frail voice held fear as solid and sharp as a blade. “He killed them. Killed me.”
Anger melted Astlin’s dread. “Who did this?”
“Shaiel’s Blade.”
A different kind of dual vision sent Astlin’s thoughts spinning as she flashed back to her last battle with Hazeroth. The demon prince had almost left her worse than dead. He would have, if not for Xander’s sacrifice.
Astlin sent her thoughts into the hangar’s every nook and cranny. She sensed no one spying on her from behind the jumbled containers, or leering down from the catwalks. All six of her senses testified that she was alone with Cook.
What if Cook was wrong? How could she detect a soul on the verge of death but not his attacker? According to Cook, that attacker was Shaiel’s Blade. But Hazeroth was dead. Astlin knew that better than anyone.
It was far more likely that a team of Night Gen had ambushed Cook and left him for dead. His warnings of Shaiel’s Blade and his urgings to call off the medics were just delirium.
But Cook was the wisest, most sober person Astlin had ever known. True, she could remove all doubt by prying the memories from his fragile soul. Instead she took him at his word.
The Secret Kings Page 9
